O’ Fridays they munched nothing but services or sorb-apples; neither were these full ripe, as I guessed by their complexion.
O’ Saturdays they gnawed bones; not that they were poor or needy, for every mother’s son of them had a very good fat belly-benefice.
As for their drink, ‘twas an antifortunal; thus they called I don’t know what sort of a liquor of the place.
When they wanted to eat or drink, they turned down the back-points or flaps of their cowls forwards below their chins, and that served ‘em instead of gorgets or slabbering-bibs.
When they had well dined, they prayed rarely all in quavers and shakes; and the rest of the day, expecting the day of judgment, they were taken up with acts of charity, and particularly—
O’ Sundays, rubbers at cuffs.
O’ Mondays, lending each other flirts and fillips on the nose.
O’ Tuesdays, clapperclawing one another.
O’ Wednesdays, sniting and fly-flapping.
O’ Thursdays, worming and pumping.